Dare You to Move
by Cassandra Mulder
Summary: Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell. Based on Exile.


**Title: **Dare You to Move  
**Author: **Cassandra Mulder  
**E-mail: **dana[underscore]mulder32[at]yahoo[dot]com  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Spoilers: **Late season 2; "Exile"  
**Classification: **Chlark; romance; action; _slight_ AU  
**Disclaimer: **Smallville and all of the characters within belong to Tollin/Robbins Productions and the WB. No infringement is intended.  
**Written: **July 7 - 20, 2004  
**Summary: **Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell. Based on "Exile".  
**Archive: **My site, Bound, anyone else please ask.  
**A/N: **This is basically an unrecognizable, Chlark re-working of "Exile". So while some themes are prevalent, others are not. So read at your own risk, but it'll probably better if you've seen the episode. :)

* * *

_Maybe redemption has stories to tell  
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell   
Where can you run to escape from yourself?   
Where you gonna go?   
Where you gonna go?   
Salvation is here   
_- "Dare You to Move" Switchfoot

* * *

_When will I ever learn to mind my own business? _Chloe thought to herself as she heaved Clark's shaking body onto his bed. He was a lot heavier than he looked.  
  
She sat down on the corner of the mattress, and ran her hands through her hair. He had told her not to come back several times, and as usual she hadn't listened. Why didn't she ever listen?  
  
She rubbed her eyes, and leaned over to retrieve her purse from the floor. She rummaged through it until she found her cell phone, only to discover it was dead.  
  
"Damn," she muttered, throwing it back into her bag. Looking from Clark to the door, she thought about running down to the street to use the pay phone, but she couldn't risk him leaving. Chloe didn't even know if she should call the Kents, but something was wrong. At least, more wrong than it had been the last three months, and she knew she had to do something.  
  
Standing up, she walked over to the side of the bed. He looked like he was in pain, she just didn't know why. Trying to soothe him with her words, she examined him the best she could, first going over his arms, and then unbuttoning his shirt.   
  
Chloe gasped and stumbled backwards when she saw the enormous S-shaped scar on his chest. It was blood red, and she slowly reached out to touch it, only to find it was scalding hot.  
  
"Oh God, Clark, what did you do?"  
  
He grabbed her hand, and as she looked at his, it finally hit her. The sun slanting through the window glinted off the red meteorite in his ring.  
  
"Nooo," she moaned, clasping his hand tighter in case he decided to resist.  
  
She quickly pulled the ring off his finger, and Clark slumped back on the bed. She tucked the ring deep in her pocket, and bent over Clark. The scar on his chest no longer looked inflamed, but he was still gasping for breath.  
  
"Chloe, I told you to leave," he bit out between ragged breaths.  
  
"Yeah, several times. Like I ever listen," she said less sharply than she really wanted to. He'd never looked so helpless, and she simply didn't have it in her to snap at him right now, no matter how much he deserved it.  
  
She brushed the hair back from his face and tried to figure out what she was going to do next. It was already obvious he wasn't going to come home with her, and she couldn't stay here.  
  
"Chloe?"  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"I - I'm sorry."  
  
"You better be, buddy, because I'm sitting here contemplating kicking your ass."  
  
She continued stroking his hair and thinking. "Are you okay, Clark? I mean, that thing on your chest..." She looked down to find that he was asleep. She supposed that whatever he had just been through would require a bit of recovery.  
  
Chloe got up and started looking around his apartment, telling herself she wasn't snooping, she just needed to know what he'd been up to all summer. From the looks of it, robbing banks had been a major activity. There was no way Clark had found a job that would make that much money, and everything in his apartment was of the highest quality.  
  
If anyone ever found out, he would be in serious trouble. But she knew it had to be the influence of the red meteorite, because the real Clark would never even consider robbery.  
  
She sighed and turned around, and saw at least four shadows creeping by one of the large windows in the living room as she heard the low thunder of footsteps.  
  
Quickly, she ran to the bed and shook Clark, and he sat up immediately.  
  
"Someone's coming, Clark," she whispered, "and I don't think they're expected company."  
  
"We've gotta get outta here," he said, grabbing her by the arm. "Now."  
  
She nodded and followed him to the back entrance. She saw him listening, then he shook his head.  
  
"They're surrounding the place."  
  
"What now?" Chloe huffed. She didn't come here to be killed by someone that was after Insane Clark. Insane Clark, whom she had been pissed off at for the last three months. It wasn't going to end this way.  
  
"Clark!" She yanked on his sleeve. "There has to be another way out of here."  
  
He grabbed her hand and kicked back an expensive looking rug on the floor, revealing a trapdoor.  
  
"I take it you've done this before?"  
  
"Not really," was his only response as he opened the door.  
  
She peered down, seeing a flight of narrow, metal stairs.  
  
Chloe let go of his hand and darted back to the side of the bed to grab her bag. She ran back across the room, and started down the stairs, looking up at Clark.  
  
"If you let them kill me, I'll come back and haunt you for the rest of your life, Clark. I swear to God."  
  
"Keep moving," he said as he started down after her.  
  
Chloe hopped down off the last stair and found herself in a small garage. Clark was right behind her, and he took her hand again, running to the far corner of the garage. He seemed to be scanning the surrounding walls, though she couldn't figure out why. There were no windows except for the two set in the door, and they were wasting time when some kind of psychos were after them.  
  
He finally led her to the other side where his motorcycle rested, and handed her the helmet hanging on the back of it.  
  
"Put this on," he ordered, and she did as she was told without question.  
  
Clark got on the bike, and motioned for her to climb on behind him. She did so, but not without apprehension, as he took her arms and wrapped them tightly around his stomach.  
  
"Hold on tight and keep your head down," he told her. "They're probably going to shoot at us."  
  
"Great," she said almost automatically with a roll of her eyes. "Okay, Clark, let's just go."  
  
She readjusted her grip around his waist, clinging as tightly as she could as he hit the button that would open the garage door.  
  
She prepared for the worst as Clark barreled through the exit and out onto the street.  
  
As he had predicted, the enemy saw them escaping and began shooting at them from the landing above. Chloe pressed herself closer to Clark, but she almost let go when she felt a searing pain shoot through her upper left arm.  
  
She cried out sharply, and Clark turned his head.  
  
"I think my arm was grazed," she yelled through the helmet and against the wind. Chloe held little hope that he had heard her, but he just nodded and turned his attention back to the road.  
  
The pain was making her nauseated now, and she had no idea how bad the wound was, but she tried to hold tight in spite of it all. Clark was going as fast as he could, and so far it didn't look like anyone was following them.  
  
About an hour later, he pulled off the road into a small parking lot. Chloe was trying to keep from passing out from the pain, but she did register that they were outside of a small motel. In fact, it looked like an absolute dive.  
  
She didn't care as long as it had running water and towels. The damage to her arm needed to be surveyed and fast.   
  
Clark gently removed her arms from around his waist and helped her off the bike. He walked up to the small window at the front of the main building, and quickly exchanged a twenty for a room key.  
  
He led her to one of the small buildings and unlocked the door, stepping aside to let her pass. He followed her in, closed the door, and turned on the lights.  
  
Chloe surveyed the room, and swayed a little, prompting Clark to put an arm beneath her shoulders to keep her upright.  
  
There was one double bed, a chair, a nightstand with a lamp, a TV on a stand across from the foot of the bed, and lots of dingy wallpaper. But at least it looked _fairly_ clean.  
  
They walked over to the bed, and she collapsed on it. Without a word, Clark helped her out of her jacket, and ripped her already damaged sleeve in order to see the wound better.  
  
"That was my favorite shirt," she muttered.  
  
Clark smirked at her. "That's all you're worried about?"  
  
"Well, I haven't bled to death just yet," she shot back. "How bad is it?"  
  
"The good news is, it seems to be clotting. The bad news is I'm going to have to try to clean it up so maybe I can tell how deep it is. I don't think you have a bullet in you, but it certainly did a little more than graze you."  
  
"What are you waiting for?"  
  
"For you to stop looking at me like you want _me_ to die," he said as he started for the bathroom to get a washcloth.  
  
A minute later, he came back and sat down beside her.  
  
"Can you blame me?"  
  
"I wouldn't blame anyone right now. Not after the things I've done."  
  
"Oh, poor Clark - OW!" she exclaimed as he wiped the dried blood from her arm.  
  
"I'm going to have to find a place that sells antiseptic and gauze, otherwise it'll get infected."  
  
Chloe sighed. "I didn't see anything nearby. Where are we anyway? And how do we know those goons aren't following us?"  
  
"They won't leave the city. At least not without orders to do so."  
  
Chloe raised an eyebrow in question.  
  
"They were Morgan Edge's men," he said, taking another gentle swipe at the area around the gash in her arm.  
  
She squirmed a bit and looked him in the eye. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Clark?"  
  
He stood up and went to toss the cloth back in the bathroom.  
  
"I'll tell you when I get back. I need to get those supplies before that gets any worse. Will you be okay here by yourself for a few minutes?"  
  
"I'll be fine. But you better tell me everything, Clark. I nearly took a bullet because of you."  
  
"I'll be right back," he said as he walked out the door, leaving her alone.  
  
Chloe laid back on the bed carefully, and closed her eyes. Her arm was throbbing, but it had been for so long that she'd almost become oddly numb to it.  
  
_Note to self: Never get shot on Clark's behalf again_, she thought. She'd always seemed to find disaster, but never anything like she had lately. And she was afraid that if Clark really did come clean she wouldn't be able to deal with whatever it was he wasn't telling her. All that would do is completely blow their relationship to pieces all over again.  
  
She had long thought that falling in love with Clark Kent was the dumbest thing she'd ever done. Love was not something easily evicted from the heart, even one as cynical as hers. She'd been learning that the hard way.  
  
Her heart had gotten her into this mess to start with, and now it had no idea how to get her out.  
  
Clark was back in less than ten minutes, and he was carrying three large plastic shopping bags. On top of the medical supplies, he'd gotten bottled water, soda, various junk food, and painkillers.  
  
"Found a convenience store, did you?" she said, slowly easing herself up.  
  
"Drug store, actually."  
  
He quickly removed the peroxide, gauze, and tape from one of the bags and laid them on the bed. Then he removed a bottle of Tylenol, followed by Advil, and held them up.  
  
"Advil," she said, and he handed her two of the blue caplets and a bottle of water. She downed them quickly and prayed they'd work soon. Then Clark took the bottle of water, sat it on the nightstand, and he was ready to get down to business.  
  
"Why don't you just sit up against the headboard? In case it's too much you'll have some support."  
  
"Fine," she said and scooted to the head of the bed. "Do you even know what you're doing?"  
  
"I guess we're about to find out, aren't we?"  
  
Clark took a small, soft cloth, which he'd also produced from the bag, and soaked it in peroxide. He placed it over her wound, and she made a slight hissing noise through her front teeth at the contact.  
  
"It's cold."  
  
He nodded and looked at her worriedly. "I'm not sure we shouldn't find you a hospital, Chloe. You might need stitches."  
  
"And get back on that thing outside? No. I'll take my chances here. Besides, it's not like it hit an artery or anything, and the bleeding's pretty much stopped."  
  
"Fine. Be stubborn."  
  
"Look who's talking," she retorted with a roll of her eyes.  
  
Clark said nothing and continued cleaning up her arm the best he could. When he was done with the peroxide, he wrapped the gauze around her arm snugly, but not so that it was too tight, and taped it securely.   
  
"That should be okay, but I'll have to change it in the morning." He tossed the supplies back into the bag, and took a long look at Chloe.  
  
She hadn't moved the entire time he was helping her, and after her last remark she hadn't said a word. Her head was propped against the plywood headboard, her eyes trained on the blank screen of the television.  
  
He sat on the edge of the bed, close to her outstretched legs, and took her right hand.  
  
"Those drugs helping yet?" he asked, and she blinked once, turning her head as if she'd just noticed he was there.  
  
"Sorry. I zoned. And yeah, I think we're down to a dull ache."  
  
"Do you want anything else? More water? Soda? Chips? Candy?"  
  
"Whoa, slow down, Clark. Water's fine for right now."  
  
"There's probably a pizza place around here somewhere. We could order one later," he said as he handed back the water bottle.  
  
"Maybe later," she said, taking a long drink. "I'd kill for some coffee."  
  
"Chloe, we might as well get this overwith."  
  
She sighed, facing the inevitable. "Then out with it, Kent. Tell me all your secrets and mysteries so I can understand why my best friend ditched the whole world this fine summer."  
  
Hurt flashed in her eyes and she knew it, but she didn't care anymore. She was tired of pretending that it didn't matter, because it did. It mattered more than Clark Kent was ever going to know, because that would only give him more power over her. More power to hurt her.  
  
"I don't have any good excuses, Chloe. Not really. I hurt a lot of people, and then I ran away."  
  
"Your mom had just had a miscarriage, Clark. How could you leave your parents like that?"  
  
"Because it was my fault," he said quietly.  
  
Chloe's mouth opened and shut before she finally found her voice. "There was an accident, Clark. Are you telling me you flipped the truck?"  
  
"No, but I caused the explosion that did."  
  
She frowned, trying to understand. "You -"  
  
"Caused it," he finished.  
  
"But you're not going to tell me how, are you?"  
  
"I - "  
  
"Can't," she finished for him this time. "Well. We have _this_ conversation down, don't we?"  
  
"Chloe..."  
  
"Don't 'Chloe' me, Clark. So, even given all that insanity, and the obvious lack of real answers, which I'm used to, that still doesn't explain how we were five seconds from the morgue. Barring the usual meteor freaks, of course. What did you do to Morgan Edge, the biggest, most dangerous crime lord in all of Metropolis?" she asked with a flourish of her hand.  
  
"What did I do _for_ him might be the more accurate question."  
  
"Clark..."  
  
"I pulled a job for him, all right? I stole something."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I don't know. Whatever it was is at the bottom of the river."  
  
"Why did you do that if you were so willing to do the job in the first place?"  
  
"I took the ring off for a few minutes."  
  
"Of course!" she said, throwing her right hand in the air. "You didn't deliver, so they tried to kill you. Oh wait, I mean _me_!"  
  
"I'm sorry you got involved in this, Chloe, but I told you to stay away."  
  
"I couldn't stay away, Clark!" she practically shouted.  
  
He put a hand on her arm to try to calm her down, but she just knocked it away.  
  
"What you did is killing everyone, can't you understand that? It's killing your parents. It's killing Lana. It's killing... me," she choked out on a sob, and blinked as tears started to run down her face. She wasn't supposed to be crying, and all of the sudden she was very angry with herself for breaking in front of him.  
  
Clark tried to take her in his arms, but she shoved him away and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.  
  
"Dammit, Clark, I don't want your pity any more than you want mine, so just leave me alone."  
  
She got up and headed to the bathroom.  
  
"Chloe, this isn't -"  
  
"Shut up!" she yelled at him, making her escape into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.  
  
She leaned against the sink with her good hand, and looked into the mirror. _Trainwreck_, she thought, staring at her completely disheveled reflection. She'd never looked this awful, and that was saying something.  
  
At least he'd told her something, even if she knew it wasn't the _whole_ truth. At least they were at the point where he could tell her he was keeping something from her, instead of lying that he wasn't. Maybe she could live with that. Even if she didn't want to, she knew she'd probably have to. She'd had plenty of suspicions of what was going on with him, but she also knew he was never going to help her out in the mystery department.  
  
Could she live with that, even if he loved her back? Even if she had everything that she wanted for so long, could she honestly be with him knowing he wasn't telling her everything she so desperately needed to know?  
  
She thought she could, if she believed in time he would come to trust her enough to let her see him. All of him. It wasn't like she totally blamed him. Her reporter's curiousity and instincts sometimes got a hold of her and refused to let go. She'd pushed too much, ran her big mouth too often, and she always seemed to pay for it.  
  
But she had to swallow her pride and learn to let go. All that mattered right now was getting Clark back where he belonged.  
  
She turned on the faucet, splashed some water on her face, dried it with a towel, and took a deep breath. She couldn't stay in the bathroom all night. The tub was no place to nurse her arm.  
  
When she opened the door, she found Clark standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed, staring at the spot where she stood. Sometimes she swore he must have X-ray vision.  
  
Chloe crumpled again, only this time she wasn't ashamed. He needed to know how much it hurt to be without him. Maybe if he did, he wouldn't try to play the lonely outcast anymore. The guy nobody needed. Because so many people did.  
  
He held out his arms, and she blindly stumbled into them. She couldn't see much for her tears, but she felt his arms envelope her, carefully avoiding her arm. But she wrapped her arms tightly about him anyway, despite any pain it might cause. It couldn't be worse than the last three months had been, and somehow she'd survived that.  
  
"I'm sorry, Chloe," he murmured into her hair. "I didn't know - I didn't mean... God, I screwed up and now I don't know how to fix it."  
  
Chloe waited a minute till the worst of her sobs had subsided to respond. "All you have to do is come home, Clark. Come home with me. We need you, we all do. I do," she admitted. She had no clue when or how this boy had become such a constant in her heart and in her life, but he was, and she couldn't stand him pushing her away one second longer. He had to come back.  
  
She threw her head back to look at his face, and he looked like he was about to cry, too. She'd never seen Clark cry before. There really was a first time for everything.  
  
"I'll come back," he said, still holding her tightly.   
  
Before she could process what he was doing, his head had bent, and he was kissing her. She gave a somewhat muffled cry of alarm that he either ignored or didn't hear, before she settled into kissing him back. Of all the places this night could've gone, she'd never expected this to be one of them. She wasn't going to complain, for now.  
  
He broke the kiss, and when he saw the look of surprise on her face, he tried to back away. But she clutched the front of his shirt to hold him in place, and her expression was nothing short of challenge.  
  
"I dare you to move, Kent. You're not going anywhere after that."  
  
Clark relaxed a little bit, and looped his arms loosely around Chloe's waist.  
  
"Chloe, if you didn't want -"  
  
"If I didn't want what?" she replied dryly. "I didn't want you to kiss me? Dream on, Clark. All I want to know is what about the 'L' word?"  
  
He just looked puzzled.  
  
"Lana."  
  
"Oh. What about her?"  
  
"What do you mean what about her?!" she said, frustrated.  
  
"Is she here?" he asked.  
  
"Uh, no."  
  
"Well, you are."  
  
"So you're going to kiss me just because I'm here? Gee, thanks, Clark."  
  
"No, Chloe, I'm kissing you because you came. You cared enough to find me, to come after me, to be relentless until you convinced me to come home. No one else has done it. No one else _would_ do it."  
  
"I love you," she said with a shrug of her shoulder. That was a risk she had thought about and knew she had to take. He could take it whatever way he liked, but they both knew how she meant it.  
  
He raised her chin to make her look him in the eye as he said, "I love you, too. I was too stupid to see it for a long time, but I do."  
  
"Clark, you didn't have to -"  
  
"I did, Chloe. I did. Because you show me all the time, and I never show you. Not really. You have risked so much for me when I didn't deserve it, and above all others, except my parents, you're always there."  
  
"This is - Are you sure?" she said helplessly. She'd never expected him to feel the same way, so she didn't know what to do with this particular revelation.  
  
"It may be the only thing I'm sure about right now," he admitted.  
  
Chloe would've loved to know what that meant, but she had vowed not to push anymore. He'd tell her what he was comfortable with when he was comfortable with it. She had to trust that.  
  
She had to trust him. And in turn, she knew he would have to learn how to trust her completely.  
  
"God, Clark, this has been the most surreal day of my entire life."   
  
It may not have been the conventional 'right' thing to say, but it was all Chloe. Which is why she suspected he'd broken into a grin.  
  
"I'd have to agree with you there," he said, and turned them towards the bed. "You'd better get some rest so we can go home in the morning. I'm not going to try to make that trip tonight with you exhausted, hanging onto me on the back of a motorcycle."  
  
"Thank God," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed, one of his arms still around her. She turned and looked into his blue-green eyes. "This isn't going to be easy, Clark."  
  
"That's nice to hear, because I never thought it would be."  
  
"I'll go with you wherever you want. To your parents, it doesn't matter. But I just want you to know they love you, Clark. They want you home so much, and they never seemed angry when I saw them. I think they're okay, that you'll be okay with them."  
  
"I know. I was stupid to run for this long. I'll never be able to make it up to them."  
  
"You will. Just by being there," she assured him. "That's all they want. That's all they've ever wanted."  
  
"I know. But part of me didn't believe that. It does now though. Thank you, Chloe."  
  
She leaned over and kissed his lips gently before settling back down on the bed.   
  
"Let's get some sleep," she said, laying down and reveling in the way he gently wrapped his arms around her and held her. "Tomorrow we're going home."  
  
Finis 


End file.
